


The 4th dance

by NewGirl18



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Badass Arya, Dancing, Eventual Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Parent Gendry, Sad and Happy, Storms End, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 01:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20127274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewGirl18/pseuds/NewGirl18
Summary: Arya comes back to right one of her biggest wrongs with a dance request.





	The 4th dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LottieDot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieDot/gifts).

  
She stood in the shadows, in her grey, plain, long and boorish gown. No one cared for her, she was so insignificant that she wasn't even noticed as a serving girl. She was a washed up shadow against the wall. An ugly one at that... She had a large scar that ran from her forehead to her shin that made people pity her and cower from her presence. She didn't care, as long as only one person acknowledged her.

It was the third dance that evening but still held a grandiose meaning as the first. Ladies from all the Stormlands were being paraded; the best in show, a future bride for the Lord of Storm's End.

Lady Rebecca held the honor of the first dance. Daughter of Narbert Grandison, she was among the first to bend the knee once Gendry reached his father's lands. No one knew who he was, besides that he was a bastard, a war hero from the Battle for the Dawn and that he came with a golden seal of approval from Daenerys Stormborn herself; the dragon Queen long perished, but her wishes still carried on by her nephew, the new ruler of Westeros. Today marked the third year of his reign and it was decided that he was to take a bride to further the Baratheon line.

As many situations in her life Arya held tightly to the end result; she was here to at least make him notice her; her, her real face and real persona, no smoke and mirrors, just her; Arya.

She couldn't say she was Arya Stark of Winterfell because that Arya died many years ago; the minute her father agreed to be the hand of the King. Long forgotten were Horseface, Lumpyhead, Arry and Weasel. The Blind girl was too insignificant, Mercedene was too lethal and she hated with a passion being called Hero of the Dawn. She was here, bare, scarred and vulnerable to the world in her own flesh.

_'We don't need anyone. We rule the North; I'm the one who passes the sentence and you the one that swings the sword'---_ Sansa had said.

But the problem was that Arya didn't want to be the sword anymore. She was tired of being steel and the frostbite that killed your limbs, she wanted to feel and the last time she felt anything was with him. Not her sister, not Jon Snow, him!.

'Will you come back?'-- Sansa had asked her, Arya never answered back. A embrace between sisters said it all: I will love you no matter what.

It was a double departure yet not an ending. Both women refused it. _No one touches the Lady of Winterfell_ and _fear the last of the Starks_ prominent in every mind. The King had tried but failed, he wasn't one of them anymore; _the North is wild and free, yet you are welcomed anytime you want your grace, _againSansa had voiced_._ He had also tried to lure them to the capital but Starks fared poorly in the South was their only and immediately response.

It had been three years, three years wandering the world by herself before she realized she was no better than the cold creatures that once threatened their whole existence. She had once traded life for death and now she was left with the flip-side of the coin. Did she want it? It wasn't clear, by now any attachment led to a heartbreak but by the Gods she wanted to feel again! And he was the best bet for it.

In front of her Lady Swann and Lady Estermont were discussing how Lady Rebecca, was the best choice. A second tier house that would even the power play between the Lords; still divided between those who served Renly first and then flocked towards Staniss cause. Lady Rebecca was tall, with brown reddish hair that reached her lower back, she was shy, soft spoken and well educated and Arya would say she was perfect for the part if only it weren't him. Only she knew Gendry, the real Gendry. Not the Lord of Storm's End.

But did she really? Know Gendry? It had been three years the last time she saw him, back at Winterfell, among celebrations for the fallen and his declaration of love. She then left for the capital and the lines tended to blur from there. Arya was whisked away back at Winterfell after helped cover up Daenerys's murder by her own advisers, Sansa closed the borders and made sure that any retaliation would be matched ten fold. _You won't hurt her, she's your sister_; Sansa had told Jon when the King himself went to find Arya, never wanted to harm her, no one dared to strike back, was there really anybody left to avenge the Queen? By now Jon was left with a broken kingdom but Arya couldn't care less, Jon could handle it, it was his duty not hers.

She left North of the Wall with Bran, back to his resting place, a far away land filled with magic she didn't understand but respected all the same. A proper farewell between two lost souls.

_ I've made my peace Sister, make yours and you shall be free_; Bran said, their parting words as Arya took off but remained far away in company of snow and mountains. It was a couple of months before she returned to Winterfell, life went on without her, Jon steadied on the Throne and Sansa filled her on the newly started Game of Thrones. The new Lord Baratheon took his seat and Arya took a boat to the Free Cities.

Daenerys's legacy lived on, slavers tried to rise and slaves revolted, men fought and men died, she went from city to city wanting to find something that would soothe her restless soul but came up empty handed. _Make your peace and you shall be free_; Bran had said, and under a Meereenese sellsword Arya realized that her body and mind craved her lost family.

Back to Winterfell she went, with a new found purpose. Sansa greeted her with open arms and gave her a firm embrace once she left. _The pack survives, we survive. Don't forget that little Wolf_... And now here she was in her grey plain, boorish gown waiting for her turn to dance with the Lord of Storm's End.

He'd grown into his title, he looked imposing in his house colors, his hair grew back along with a healthy beard making his eyes look impossibly more blue. People talked about how kind he was and how dedicated he was with the small folk, of how serious he was with his bannermen and of how respectful he was towards anyone. Nothing that Arya didn't already know, she was however interested in his quest to find a wife. He had spent his short lordship repairing his lands and now he was looking for a wife, how much was this his decision? Or was it just another royal decree to be followed through?

The third dance ended and while there where seventeen more ladies in line Arya was never one to wait. She walked from the shadows earning a few long stares, some knew her, many didn't. Her reputation was a beast that had morphed her into this larger than life character that was a contrast with her small frame. No one saw the She Wolf, many saw a simpleton girl inside the great hall walking straight towards their lord liege.

"Dance with me Gendry." She said.

She didn't ask, she didn't demand. She spoke and waited to be heard. His back was towards her, stiff with tension after hearing her, he turned around slowly and Arya had to use all of her strength to not crumble at the wave of emotions displayed in Gendry's eyes. Surprise, elation, fear and God's she hope that was still love!

The whole hall went silent, the air filled with electricity, this time Arya did hear the whispers of Stark thrown around the audience. But she didn't dare turn her stare away from Gendry's. This was their moment, their time. _I wasn't ready then_; she said with her eyes. _Please understand that..._ It seemed forever once Gendry finally spoke.

"I'm supposed to take a lady for a wife"-- he said. His deep rich timber making her shiver.

"I'm not a lady" she replied with confidence. The same hurt in his eyes after all these years, if he still hurts he still loves. "Ask me again."

"What?"--- Gendry blurted this time making her roll her eyes.

"Ask me again what you did back at Winterfell. Ask me again, the right way"

She knew she had him, she thanked the Gods she never lost him but he was still a stubborn bullheaded boy; now man. She needed to hear the words.

His ears went red as he realized they were the center of attention, but he centered himself standing even taller. He was more confident, it suited him. Gendry walked closer until their shoes touched. His breath on her face as he crouched down to her eye level.

"Just be mine Arya. Be mine just as I am yours. I've always been yours"---

"Yes." She replied as his eyes filled with tears of happiness.

They married that same night alone in the godswood, the septon the only guest aside from the Old Gods.

The pair lived a happy life for years until the birth of their son Eddard, followed closely by his mother's death after complications in labor but the Lady of Storm's End died with a smile on her face, for the first time in her life she had traded death for life and ended up on the winning side.

The Baratheon line prospered. Lord Gendry brought up his son with love, passion, fury and honor and at the end of his life he smiled proud of his son and how he was finally going to rest with his lady.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I'm till pissed off with Season 8. Sorry


End file.
